


Roots

by theappleppielifestyle



Category: The Avengers
Genre: Ficlet, Happy Ending, M/M, off-screen character death(s), travelling to alternate universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:54:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first dimension they visit, the other Tony Stark is already cold in the ground. Dead before everything even kicked off- age 32, from alcohol poisoning.</p>
<p>Steve asks,<em> what’s different about this universe?</em></p>
<p>Tony just follows his gaze towards the sign: <em>Stane Industries,</em> bright and blaring into the New York rain, which Tony still thinks different to any other rain that he’s been in. </p>
<p>He knows what he means- that something must have changed for him to do that.</p>
<p>Tony clicks his jaw and drops his gaze. <em>Don’t know, Cap. Someone didn’t get to me in time, or whatever. Come on, time’s a-wasting.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Roots

The first dimension they visit, the other Tony Stark is already cold in the ground. Dead before everything even kicked off- age 32, from alcohol poisoning.

Steve asks,  _what’s different about this universe_?

Tony just follows his gaze towards the sign: _Stane Industrie_ s, bright and blaring into the New York rain, which Tony still thinks different to any other rain that he’s been in. 

He knows what he means- that something must have changed for him to do that.

Tony clicks his jaw and drops his gaze.  _Don’t know, Cap. Someone didn’t get to me in time, or whatever. Come on, time’s a-wasting_.

-

The second one, Natasha had never been in the Avengers, and Clint had died a long time ago.

Other-Bruce has a scar, running up the side of his face, and he rubs his fingers across it before reaching for his coffee.  _I don’t know_ , he says.  _We just never got along_.

Tony glances at the photographs- there’s only one, of a young girl with dark hair that falls to her waist.

_Uh_ , he says.  _That sucks. In my world, we’re, y’know. Kind of close._

Other-Bruce’s gaze flickers between him and Steve, like a spark going out. _You don’t say_.

-

In the fourth one, Thor never had a brother, and he smiles more.

They all seem pretty happy, and everyone acts the same. 

Other-Steve and Other-Tony are… different, but only marginally. Like, Tony doesn’t have a coffeemaker.

_I have no idea how your Tony survives without it_ , Steve says to his other self as he watches the other Tony’s comparing their work.  _My one practically lives on it._

Other-Steve’s mouth makes that funny little movement that Steve recognizes as him trying not to smile.  _He got rid of it when he threw out the liquor cabinet_.

Steve nods, his eyes trying to track the differences between his Tony and the other Tony. It’s actually kind of hard- if his Tony didn’t have on that old AC/DC shirt, he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell.

_What does he do to wake up in the mornings_?

Other-Steve grins.  _Me, usually_.

-

The eighth one, there are no Avengers. 

Instead, there’s a beacon shining up where Stark Tower should be- lighting up the sky the entire way.

It’s a wasteland, almost- a skeleton of collapsed buildings and wet wreckage. 

Tony doesn’t know how long it’s been when Steve finally tugs on his arm.

_Come on_ , Steve says.  _We have to keep moving_.

-

Twelfth, and everyone’s dead except for that world’s Steve.

He’s older- forty, maybe- and his palm grates against his stubble.

_Bit too late_ , he says.  _Sorry._

Tony forces himself further away, because Other-Steve keeps flinching slightly whenever he gets too close. _Is there anything we can_ -

Other-Steve says,  _don’t._

-

Fifteenth, and they’re dead.

-

Seventeenth, and everyone’s dead again, and they collapse into bed at a shitty motel, alternate universes be damned.

They wake up pressed against each other, and for a moment, neither of them can make themselves say,  _we have to keep going_.

-

Nineteenth, and Coulson’s been alive all along.

Steve wants to tell him about the nightmares, about seeing a SHIELD agent in a suit and always imagining as Phil with blood in his teeth.

Instead, he says,  _you know, you were why we save the world_.

Coulson, wonderful, ineffable, unbreakable Phil Coulson, looks slightly surprised.  _I’m aware_.

Steve tells him,  _thank you_.

-

Twenty-second, and Other-Tony is older, worse for wear, and stays as far away as humanly possible from the liquor cabinet.

_Steve_ , Other-Tony says.  _I- fuck, is it_ -

_It’s not me_ , Steve says.  _I mean, it **is**  me- I’m from a different universe_.

He tries not to notice how Other-Tony’s shoulders sag slightly, like he’s folding into himself.

_Oh,_  he says.

_I’m sorry,_  Steve tries. _I- we’re trying to get home_ -

_We?_

_Yes, me and the Tony from my universe._

Other-Tony’s eyes have smudges underneath them, and god, he looks so _old_.

Other-Tony swallows.  _Where is he?_   _Can I speak to him_?

_I don’t think so. We’re almost going_.

_Wait_ \- Other-Tony stutters forwards, one hand out before bringing it snapping back to his side.  _I- I wanted to- I know it’s not you, but_ - 

Steve can see his legs shaking. He can see the side of his mouth ticking, his fingers trembling, how he’s going to fall on the floor when Steve fuzzes like static and vanishes into the next dimension.

_I love you_ , he says, and Other-Tony makes a sound like he’s dying.  _I love you, and I know that you’re not my Tony, but I know that whoever I am in this universe, I love you. I can’t imagine a world where I don’t._

Other-Tony’s breath rattles as he drags it in, and Steve watches as his face scrunches up tightly; hot, ugly tears in his eyes.

_It wasn’t worth it_ , Other-Tony chokes, and Steve’s going, going-

-

Twenty-five, and when he finally finds his Tony again, the hug catches him off-guard.

He hugs back automatically, one hand coming up to cradle Tony’s head. _Christ, what happened_?

_I fucking hate alternate universes_ , Tony says into his shirt.

Steve huffs out a laugh.  _What was it this time_?

He feels Tony’s bitter smile against his skin, and when Tony doesn’t reply, he doesn’t push.

-

Twenty-eight, and they open their eyes to the ceiling of Tony’s workshop.

Tony doesn’t even sit up, he just lies there and groans:  _For the love of all that is deep-fried, please tell me this is my universe, because I really can’t be bothered with an evil Bruce or a female Clint or whatever the fuck_ -

The door slams open, and Pepper’s rushed,  _oh, thank god_ , is balm to Steve’s ears.

_You guys took your fucking time_ , Clint announces from the doorway, over Natasha’s head.  _Thought we’d lost you for a second_.

_You looked better with breasts_ , Tony says, still flat on the floor, and laughs when Clint pulls the finger.

Steve is too adrenaline-flushed and world-weary to do anything but laugh weakly with him, and allow himself to be pulled up by Thor.

Natasha’s hand squeezes his shoulder briefly.  _Go anyplace interesting, Cap?_

Steve wants to sit down. And shower. And sleep for a week.

He grunts, and Natasha smirks. _Message received. I’ll be downstairs if you need me_.

Steve tries to say thanks, but ends up smiling gratefully, because okay, is his vision supposed to be fuzzing around the edges?

He comes back into himself when he feels the warmth of Tony’s fingers through his shirt.

_Yeah, me too_ , Tony says. _Bed?_

Steve finally manages,  _yeah_ , and numbly follows him up the staircase, stumbling into a wall twice and almost tripping over a desk.

He’s dimly aware of his face mashing into the pillow, of Tony’s hand curling into his hair.

Steve lets himself sag into the mattress, sloping his arm around Tony’s waist.

He feels, rather than hears, Tony’s mutter into his neck:  _Good to be home_? 

Steve feels heavy. He feels like he’s sinking, like he’s a weight melting into the bed, and Tony’s hard lines against his body only help.

He pushes closer, tugs Tony further towards him until their entire bodies are pressed up against each other, Tony’s mouth at his neck, his hipbones angling into Steve’s stomach, one leg over his.

He blindly fumbles out towards Tony, and the kiss ends up on his forehead. 

_Good to be home_.


End file.
